Aeschylus, Persians 1–154: Parodos: the Persian elders at Susa fear for the army

Here we are, the faithful Council of the Persians, who have gone to the land of Hellas, we who serve as warders of the royal abode, rich in bountiful store of gold, we whom Xerxes, our King, Darius’ royal son, himself selected, by virtue of our rank and years, to be the guardians of his realm. Yet as regards the return of our King and of his host, so richly decked out in gold, the soul within my breast is distressed and presages disaster. For the whole populace of the Asian nation has come and murmurs against its youthful King, nor does any courier or horseman arrive at the city of the Persians, who left behind them the walled defence of Susa and Agbatana and Cissa’s ancient ramparts, and went forth, some on horseback, some in galleys, others on foot presenting a dense array of war. Such are Amistres and Artaphrenes and Megabates and Astaspes, marshals of the Persians; kings themselves, yet vassals of the Great King, they press on, commanders of an enormous host, skilled in archery and horsemanship, formidable to look upon and fearful in battle through the valiant resolve of their souls. Artembares, too, who fights from his chariot, and Masistres, and noble Imaeus, skilled with the bow, and Pharandaces, and Sosthanes, who urges on his steeds. Others in addition the mighty, fecund Nile sent forth — Susiscanes, Pegastagon of Egyptian lineage, mighty Arsames, lord of sacred Memphis, Ariomardus, governor of ancient Thebes, and the marsh-dwelling oarsmen, well-skilled and countless in number.

Behind them follows a throng of luxurious Lydians and those who hold in subjection all the people of the mainland, whom Metrogathes and brave Arcteus, their regal commanders, and Sardis rich in gold sent forth, riding in many a chariot, in ranks with three and four steeds abreast, a spectacle terrible to behold. They too who live by sacred Tmolus pledge themselves to cast the yoke of slavery upon Hellas—Mardon, Tharybis, anvils of the lance, and the Mysians, hurlers of the javelin. Babylon, also, teeming with gold, sends a mixed host arrayed in a long line, both mariners borne in galleys and those who rely on their skill in archery. The nation too which wears the sabre follows from every part of Asia in the fearful procession of the King. Such are the warriors, the flower of the Persian land, who have departed, and in fierce longing for them the whole land of Asia, their foster-nurse, laments, while parents and wives, as they count the days, shudder at the lengthening delay.

The royal army, dealing destruction to cities, has already passed to the neighboring land upon the facing shore, and this they did by crossing the Hellespont, named for the daughter of Athamas, on a bridge of boats made fast with cables, thereby casting a tightly constructed roadway as a yoke upon the neck of the sea.

The fiery lord of populous Asia is leading his wondrous warrior-flock against the whole earth in two divisions, on foot and by the sea, putting his trust in his stalwart and stern commanders; he himself, a god-like hero whose race is sprung from gold.

With eyes flashing with the dark glare of a deadly dragon, attended by soldiers and mariners in great numbers, and speeding his Syrian chariot, he leads against a people renowned for the spear a warlike host of archers.

And there is no man skilled to withstand the mighty stream of men, and with strong barriers keep out the sea’s invincible surge; for Persia’s host cannot be withstood, and her men are courageous.

For by the will of the gods Fate has held sway since ancient time, and has ordained for the Persians the pursuit of rampart-destroying war, the turmoil of fighting horsemen, and the storming of cities.

And they have learned to look upon the precinct of the deep when the broad-wayed sea whitens to foam beneath the tempest’s blast, trusting in their finely wrought cables and their devices which give passage to their army.

Yet the insidious guile of god—what mortal man can escape it? Who with agile foot can lightly overleap and escape its toils?

For Delusion, with her fair appearance, lures men astray into her snares, from which it is not possible to escape without meeting with disaster.

Therefore my heart is wrapped in gloom and is racked with fear for the Persian army lest the state learn that the mighty capital of Susa is empty of men.

Fearful I am too that as bands of women cry aloud woe, the Cissian stronghold will raise a resounding shout responsive to the beating of breasts, and that there will be a tearing of fine linen robes.

For all the men-at-arms, those who urge on steeds and those who march along the plain, have left the city and gone forth, like bees in a swarm, together with the captain of the host. They have crossed the headland, projecting into the sea and common to either continent, through which both shores are bridged.

And marriage-beds are filled with tears through longing for husbands; each Persian woman has sent to the field her warlike and fiery consort, and now in grief and longing for her beloved lord, is left forsaken by her mate.

But come, Persians, let us take our place on the steps of this ancient palace and devise some wise and deeply-pondered counsel—for need of this has come upon us—as to how Xerxes our King, Darius’ son, scion of our own race as his forefather’s name declares, is faring. Is it the drawing of the bow that has triumphed, or is it the might of the sharp spear-head which has prevailed? But look, here is a light like the eyes of the god, the mother of our king, my Queen. I bow low before her. It is fitting also that we all address her with words of salutation.